Forever and Almost Always
by K-MAD17
Summary: The original cast of One Tree Hill leaves nothing to be desired, but what if the characters you know and love were joined by six and a half new characters in a tumultuous story of their high school experience? Whose relationships will fail? Whose friendships will fall apart? And whose pasts will come back to haunt them? Please Read and Reveiw! This is my first story.
1. Chapter 1

The original cast of One Tree Hill leaves nothing to be desired, but what if the Lucas Scott, Nathan Scott, Haley James Scott, Peyton Sawyer, Brooke Davis, Antwon "Skills" Taylor, Marvin "Mouth" McFadden , Jake Jegelski, and Chase Adams you know and love were joined by six and a half new characters in a tumultuous story of their high school experience? Meet Julian Baker (who may or may not be new to you depending on your One Tree Hill watching), Lailin Durham, Isobel Scott, Hunter Hayes, Sophia Scott, Blake Taylor, and Samira Kapoor, Tree Hill's newest residents. Whose relationships will fail? Whose friendships will fall apart? And whose pasts will come back to haunt them?

New Characters

Lailin Durham- Whitey's Granddaughter

Hunter Hayes- Dan conceived a child in the summer between high school and college with Susan Hayes while he was at summer camp. Learned he had three half siblings after she died.

Isobel "Izzi" Scott - Nathan's twin sister

Sophia Scott- Karen and Keith got married a year after Lucas was born and had another child.

Blake Taylor- Skills' little sis; works at Karen's Café with Lucas, Haley,and Hunter.

Samira Kapoor- cheerleader and friend of the main characters.

Julian Baker- Nathan and Lucas's team-mate on the Ravens and Brooke's boyfriend.

**A/N Hi, my name is Kenya and I am writing this story with my best friend Mary Alice. I know this story doesn't start with a character you are familiar with but please read it , the characters we all know and love are coming soon. Enjoy!**

**Lailin**

There aren't many people in Breaux Bridge, Louisiana, the crawfish capital of the world. Sure, you've got your preachers and your fishermen and your school teachers, but that's mostly it—go through three stop lights and you've missed the town completely. And as stereotypical as it is, I was born in the small town to a terribly poor family with a cancer victim for a mother and a father who hadn't darkened our doorstep since the day I was born. I was an only child, so as soon as Mom died when I was sixteen I packed my bags for Tree Hill, North Carolina in search of my only relative and never looked back. Mom had been my only friend besides a childhood confidant by the name of Hunter, and even that fell apart eventually. Everyone important to me fell away—I was a loner who was actually terrified of being alone. But I adjusted. Life in Tree Hill became rhythmic, and I began to feel like I was finally fitting in somewhere. I felt like maybe, just maybe, I had found my groove.

That is, until I got the stupid text just a few days ago.

Now, I make myself a third cup of coffee and just stare at it, picking it apart like birds might pick the skin from a poor dead critter. Lailin,

It's Hunter. I'm in Tree Hill, and the last person I talked to back home told me you were, too. I don't know if the feeling is mutual, but I'd really like to see you. It's been forever. Let me know if I can stop by. :)

I throw the phone across the room and put my head in my hands. I can't stop picturing his face when he told me he was leaving me behind, the gut-wrenching feeling that came with it. I know it's not his fault his family decided to move—I knew it then. But the fact that he waited until now to let me know he was even alive still hurts. And quite frankly, even though I'm seventeen and it was six years ago, it really pisses me off.

The doorbell rings and I heave myself out of my chair, still staggering from the weight of all the sleep caught in my hair and eyes. The man behind the door is a big, bumbling bulk of guy, his expanded belly hanging over the edge of his pants and his chin hanging down to the collar of his shirt. He just looks like someone's legendary grandfather who has been the coach of the Tree Hill Ravens basketball team for years upon years—it's bordering on stereotypical. I like him, though. He's nice, he's funny, he's caring...and he's paying my rent, which factors in significantly in his status with me. I smile and give him a quick hug. "Hey, Whitey." He'd asked me not to call him Grandpa the moment I could first talk—he said it reminded him he was so old. I've always called him by his name, just like my parents did. Monkey see, monkey do, I suppose.

"Hey, Lailin. I just came by to drop off this month's rent. You should start getting nasty emails about it tomorrow at the latest." He presses an envelope into my hands and I take it reluctantly. I told him when I first moved in that I'd be happy to pay my own rent—the law wouldn't have to know. But he refused. He's dished out quite a bunch on me in the one year I've struggled through Tree Hill.

I sigh. "For the last time, I really can pay the rent. It's no big deal."

"Nonsense! You're young. You shouldn't have to worry about that. That's what I'm good for."His big fingers fumble with something in his pocket before pulling out a credit card, one with my name on it. "I also went and got your past few months' paychecks put on here. I bought this month's groceries with it, too, like you always insist I do."

I raise my eyebrows. "Did you really?"

"Well, I paid the tax with it, at least. You've still got a good amount of money on there."

I roll my eyes and punch him lightly on the shoulder. "You're impossible." He smiles, and it is my mother's smile, all teeth and dimply cheeks. My heart hurts. "Is there anything else you want to so graciously give me before you leave?"

He chuckles. "No, unless my regular question about you transferring to Tree Hill High counts."

"We've been over this, Whitey—regular high school is not for me. Unless Oppenhemier's tuition is getting too expensive for you." He has asked me this question at the end of every grading period this school year, and now that summer is rapidly drawing to a close, I suppose he feels the need to ask again. It's not like I haven't considered it—Oppenheimer's School for the Gifted is rough as far as academics go. But I don't know if I could adjust to a normal school system again.

"No, no, nothing like that," he assures me. "I just thought that you might want to spend your senior year somewhere that would allow you to have a little more fun. And the academics aren't terrible, you know. A good number of boys on the team have outstanding grades. In fact, Nathan is with a girl who has like, a 4.25 GPA. You can't get that without good AP classes."

A 4.25? And I thought my 4.0 was impressive! "Well, as always, I'll think about it." He nods and turns to leave, and before I know what I'm doing, I stop him. "Hey, Whitey?"

"Yeah?"

I swallow. "Do you…would you happen to know where a boy named Hunter Hayes is staying? He's in Tree Hill, but I don't know for how long." What the hell, Lailin? I think. Are you trying to make yourself miserable?

His face scrunches up, his eyebrows drawing together comically. "Hayes….Hayes….oh, that's Lucas and Nathan's half-brother. He used to live with Dan and Deb, but now that all those kids are emancipated, he lives with Nathan, his wife, Haley (that freaky genius I was telling you about), and Isobel Scott in an apartment somewhere. They're all seniors this year."

Dan? Half-brother? Apartment? My head is swimming. "Excuse me?" I watched Hunter move to New York with his family—I waved goodbye as the moving van drove away. How could he possibly be someone's emancipated half-brother?

Whitey looks at me strangely. "Hunter has been in Tree Hill for five years, Lailin. Why? Do you know him?"

I can't catch my breath. Five years. He's been in Tree Hill for five years, and he hasn't bothered to acknowledge my existence until now. And it's not like he didn't know I was here—I made my aunt, who had lived next door to us and taken care of me towards the end of Mom's life, send him a letter explaining where I was going, just in case he cared (or remembered me at all). So why has he waited until now? And why, why, why didn't he tell me about all this? "No," I answer, my voice strangely distant. "Not anymore."

**Thanks for reading, should I continue? If I get 2 reviews I will update tomorrow!**

** -Kenya**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Hey it's Kenya! I hope you are enjoying the story, thank you othlover4ever for reviewing! I hope to get more reviews on this chapter! This chapter describes how Hunter fits into the Scott clan! Enjoy!**

**Hunter**

_It is summer in Louisiana, and the sun is beating down on both of our faces as Lailin and I lounge on my parents' lawn. She has Popsicle juice all over her face, but I haven't told her yet—it's cute, and somehow it makes her eyes look darker. Her hair, done up in pigtails, is strewn with grass. I know my mother has told me that I'm entirely too young to be in love—she says I have to be fifteen before I can date, and that is a whole four years away—but the light is hitting her just right and I want to kiss her, something I have never wanted to do before. I don't know when I went from girls having cooties to this. It just happened, and with my best friend of people. And now that it finally has, I have to tell her something that will ruin our relationship forever. _

"_Lailin?"_

"_Yeah?"_

_God, she's so pretty. I swallow hard to get rid of the lump in my throat. It doesn't work. "I uh….have to tell you something."_

_She turns over on her side and rests her head on her arm. "Well, are you gonna wait all day before you do?"_

_Normally I would laugh, but today my stomach is twisted in little knots and I don't know if I can. "The thing is, I…..my family is moving to New York. And they won't let me stay here by myself. So I have to go with them."_

_She is silent for a long moment, so long that I think she might not reply. Then—"Dang, are you serious? That really sucks. I'm going to miss you."_

_My heart jumps. "I know." I take her hand experimentally, and she winds her fingers through mine after a moment's pause. They're sticky, but I don't mind. "Can I tell you something else?"_

"_Is it more bad news?"_

"_No."_

"_Then go ahead."_

_I take a deep breath. "I think I'm in love with you."_

_She laughs. "Yeah, right."_

"_I'm serious. I know we're young, but it's true. You're beautiful—I think about you all the time."_

"_Well, Hunter," she says, "my mom won't let me date yet, so you're going to have to wait a while. But thank you. I like you, too. You know that."_

_I do, but it's still nice to hear. She leans closer to me and smiles. "Can I ask you something?"_

"_Of course."_

"_Do you really think I'm pretty?"_

_I don't know how I know what to do—I just do. I press my lips on hers and leave them there for just a minute. When we pull away, the suctioning sound makes us both cringe. "The prettiest."_

_She sighs. "I don't know what I'm going to do when you move, Hunter." _

_I try to imagine life without her and fail. There is no home without Lailin—her smile is my sun, her eyes my stars, her laugh my moon. I feel sort of like a black hole is closing in around me. "Me either," I say, and my voice is lined with the burden of premature love. _

I take a deep breath and finish the walk to her front 's sunny here, and I am brought back to that day that everything changed. I can almost feel the grass under my back, the texture of juice-stained fingers through mine. It takes a full five minutes and lots of deep breathing before I am able to knock.

She opens the door, her face inquisitive, and in the second before she recognizes me I am able to see that she's just as beautiful as she was, if not more. Her long, dark hair, her eyes, her flawless tan skin—it's all the same, and my heart skips a beat. "Hey, Lailin."

"Hunter." She leans against the doorframe, her posture stiff. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

I gulp. It has been—she just doesn't know why. But it's not time to tell her. Not yet. "Yeah, sorry about that. I just….I've been….busy," I finish lamely. Crap. Her eyes are stormy, and I find myself suddenly terrified for the state of my health. Nathan is going to kill me if he has to pay another medical bill.

"I see," she says, her nostrils flaring. She looks madder than I have ever seen her before, like a bull corned by an arrogant matador. There is a moment of silence before she seizes a vase next to the door and chunks it at my head.

I duck, but not quite fast enough—a shard grazes my forehead. I think it's bleeding, but I don't care. Straightening back up, I hold my hands up as if in surrender. "Lailin, wait….."

"You _bastard_." She continues to throw things at me, anything she can get her hands on—knick knacks, the doorstop, a brass candlestick. "Do you have _any idea_ how long I've waited for you to call me? To stop by? You've been here for _five years_, Hunter; the least you could have done is let me know you still remembered I existed!"

I duck again as a cat that I strongly suspect isn't stuffed flies across the room. "I know, and I'm sorry. But if you just knew the whole story…."

"The whole story?! I know all I need to know! You were my best friend, and after you moved, you never called me again. I didn't hear from you. You _betrayed_ me."

I am trying to stay calm, I really am, but I can feel my temper rushing in my blood like the angry tide of the Hudson. My hands clench at my sides. "Look, I know I was wrong, but you don't know half of what's happened to me in the past five years. Did you ever stop to wrap your thick head around the possibility that maybe things have been going on that you don't understand?"

When her fist crunches the bones in my nose, I am surprised to find that I'm not surprised in the least. Lailin and have known each other for a long time—it's been a while, but I still know exactly how far I can push her before she cracks (quite literally, in this case). I want to tell her that I understand what I've done wrong, apologize for pushing her buttons. But instead all that comes out of my mouth is "_Shit!_"

She starts at the word—we can both count the number of times I have cursed in my life on two hands. She takes a moment to look down at her bloody knuckles, up at the blood streaming from between my closed hands, and down at the slowly expanding red stain on her carpet before her eyes soften. "Well, crap," she says. "We've made one heck of a mess."

"I'm sorry about your carpet." I am perched on the end of her bed like a bird preparing for flight, ready to leap at a moment's notice. She is not usually the kind of girl to kick someone with a broken nose and an ocean of blood on their clothes out onto the curb, but in my case, I honestly can't tell what she will do next. I'm surprised I'm even still here.

She shrugs. "It's just a stain. It's not exactly your fault." She presses a cold rag into my hands and looks away. "Here. Put this on your nose."

I oblige, applying pressure and trying not to wince. "It is, though. My fault, I mean. I shouldn't have done what I did. I'm so sorry."

"Why did you?" Her voice cracks. "You have no idea how much I needed you. Mom was so sick—and then when she died, I was all by myself. I still am. I thought you cared about me."

My heart breaks. That is the only way to describe it. I look at the expression on her face and I can feel it splitting in two, cells and tissues dividing and streaming from the hole her pain has created in my chest. It hurts more than I ever thought it could and I can't breathe. "When we moved to New York," I start, "I was planning on calling you every day. I couldn't while I was in the air, though, so I turned my phone on the minute we got in the car to go to the apartment. I got your voicemail. Well, you remember how terrible my phone etiquette used to be—I had no idea what to say. I asked my parents if they would help me." I swallow. "Mom was laughing at me and trying to come up with something to say when the stop sign came up. She didn't see the truck—none of us did. He didn't see us, either. When it hit us, Dad threw himself into the backseat to cover me, but Mom didn't have time. She died on impact."

She gasps, a sharp intake of breath. She had been close to my mother. "Hunter…."

"Dad and I moved everything into the new house after the funeral," I continue in a dead sort of voice. "We lived there for a year, but he had changed—he was distant, sad. He would leave early in the morning and not come back until late at night. I had to learn to fend for myself. And then, three weeks after my twelfth birthday, I walked into the kitchen to find him dead over the sink. Overdose, they told me. I knew he loved my mom, but I couldn't stop myself from being mad at him. Even now, I don't know if I am or not. He left me a note explaining every lie my parents had ever told me in my life. Turns out he wasn't my real father at all—Mom got pregnant from this guy named Dan right before freshman year of college, but he dumped her and knocked up a woman named Deb that fall. He had gotten a girl named Karen pregnant, too, in their senior year of high school. So he, my real father, is the reason I have three half-siblings and no parents. He's the most irresponsible and hateful man I've ever met, Lailin. I put up with him for five years before Nathan, Izzi, and I couldn't take it anymore and got emancipated. Just easier that way, you know?"

"Yeah," she whispers, holding her chest. I wonder if she's trying to sew her heart back together with her fingers, a technique I have tried a million times. Sadly, I can't tell her it will work. "I do."

"Well, anyway, there was a plane ticket to Tree Hill with the letter. Dan and Deb were supposed to be expecting me. So I went. I met some really nice people, like Nathan and Lucas and Izzi and a really cool group of people, and I met some really awful people, like Dan. I wrote a few songs and kept up a 3.8 GPA. But mostly, I missed you. I thought about you. I wanted nothing more than to fly back to Louisiana and be with you again, even if it meant being stuck in Breaux Bridge. I didn't, though, because I didn't deserve it."

Her eyebrows furrow. "How do you figure that?"

I swallow the tears in my throat and steel myself. "I'm the reason for my mother's death, Lailin. And don't tell me I'm not—" she opens her mouth and closes it again "—because it's true. I don't deserve something as good as you. I told myself that I would lead a normal life and maybe even be somewhat happy, but I also promised myself that I would never let myself contact you again, if only so I wouldn't give myself that pleasure. You were all I wanted, so that was my own personal punishment for what I had done. It was stupid and selfish and I had no right, but I kept it going until I found an old picture of the two of us in my old house a few days ago and I couldn't do it anymore. I broke. It's stereotypical and cliché and everything I know your writer's soul hates me for, but I need you in my life, Lailin. And maybe I've royally screwed that up for myself, but it's true. I need you, I need you, I need you."

I haven't cried since my first night in Tree Hill five years ago, but when she puts her arms around me and tucks her face into my neck, I am that little twelve-year-old boy again, lost in a world that just seems too big and cruel to be true.

**Hope y'all enjoyed it, if I get 2 reviews( you don't need an account) I will update tomorrow!**

**-Kenya**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Hey, I am back with new chapter! Thank You othlover4ever, SHAUN BUCK, and 123abc for your kind reveiws, Enjoy!  
**

**Lailin**

It has been five hours since Hunter left when I finally leave my post by the front door, sink onto my couch, and put my head in my hands. I had wanted to take him to the hospital, but he insisted on going alone—he "wouldn't want me to have to deal with that." I made him promise he would call one of his siblings to come get him and let him go, not saying any type of goodbye because I wasn't sure how. I had held him while he cried, told him everything was going to be okay, and I couldn't even say a goddamn goodbye. This is new for me—I have always been the type of girl that is cool and confident when it comes to boys, a strong speaker for women's rights and someone who won't let guys push her around. I have always known what the right relationship decisions are. But now, as I replay Hunter and I's encounter in my head, I have no idea what to do next. I throw myself down face-first and let a pillow smoosh flat the landscape of my face.

I obviously still have feelings for him. I have been with a handful of other guys since he left, but he was always in the back of my mind, attached to whatever part of the brain handles memories like a tic. I have never truly gotten over him. How far, though, does the extent of my feelings stretch? I cannot, of course, fall into his open arms and proclaim to be madly in love with him after what he did—I'm not Bella Swan (who, quite frankly, should have gotten herself together and done better things with her time instead of moping around and getting herself even further into whatever sick and twisted love triangle they've got going on). It will take a long process of him rebuilding my trust and extinguishing my anger before I will even begin to consider that. But there is the fact that he needs me to be there with him _right now_, girlfriend or not, and I honestly can't decide if I think I can do it. It's not just the matter of leaving Oppenheimer's, which I will undoubtedly have to do if that's what I choose—it's a matter of altering my whole life. I would have to go to a public high school for the first time in a long time, make new friends, try to patch up Hunter and I's damaged relationship. I would have to become someone that someone else depends on. Am I a good enough person to do that for someone else?

Afternoon fades out to dusk as I smother myself with pillows and think. My mind keeps going in circles, thoughts like a Ferris wheel circling my brain. One minute I decide I am going; the next I am convinced I am never going to come out of this house again so I won't have to see his face. I'm going, then I'm not, I'm going, then I'm not. I sigh and try an exercise my mother taught me the first (but definitely not last) time I got in a fight with another girl. It's the oldest trick in the book, really. I close my eyes and try to put myself in his shoes.

_Okay, Lailin, let's think. What if you were a pathetic asshole who left his best friend behind and never called her again because you were trying to be all noble—no, no, focus, stupid, focus. What if your mother died right after you moved to a scary new place and your father killed himself a year later? What if you had to move to a new place with relatives you didn't know you had and try to fit in? What if you found out your family had been lying to you your whole life and you couldn't talk to them about it because they were gone? What if your real father was a bastard and you had to live on your own because life at home was so bad? What if you went to your best friend, the only person you had to go to when all else fails, and she turned you away in your time of need (after breaking your nose on top of all that)? What if you had to go home and spend the rest of your life wondering what might have happened?_

_ What if you had to hate yourself for so long that you couldn't remember what if felt like to be okay?_

I gasp and shake myself out the fantasy. I am sweating. I haven't lifted my face from the pillow, but I'm sure that when I am, I will be crying. Hunter is in no way forgiven, but I cannot leave him to do this alone. It's not right. No one, not even my last enemy, should have to do something like this alone.

I vault myself off the couch in one violent, sudden motion and grab my phone from where it rested on the floor. It takes only two dialing seconds and four rings for a voice to sound on the other end of the phone. "Lailin?"

I only call him when something is drastically wrong (so, never), so I can understand his concern. I try to keep my voice calm. "Hey, Whitey."

"Is something wrong?"

"No—I'm fine. But I need you to do something for me."

"And that something would be?"

I take a deep breath. "I need you to call Oppenheimer's for me."

To: sarchibald

Subject: Lailin Durham

Mr. Archibald,

It regrets me to inform you that Lailin will not be returning to Oppenhemier's in the fall. It is nothing against your school—she just feels that she'd like to spend her senior year in a different environment. We would really appreciate it if you would send her transcripts to my office at Tree Hill High so that she can get registered for the new year. Thank you for giving her a great year.

All the best,

Whitey Durham

**Hope you liked it. To answer othlover4ever's question Isobel (Izzi) Scott is Nathan's twin sister. In this story Dan Scott has 4 kids, Lucas is the oldest then there is Hunter, Nathan, and Izzi. If I get three reveiws (you still don't need an account) I will try to reveiw tomorrow!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey you guys, thanks for the kind reviews! How do you like it so far? Enjoy, the first chapter in Lucas's POV!**

**Lucas**

"Damn it, Hunter, can't you go a day without breaking something?"

The other boy tries to smile as I sit down next to him on the freezing metal table. His nose isn't bleeding, but it has faded into a swollen and throbbing sort of purple, twice the size I remember it being normally. His shirt is coated in blood. "Technically, this wasn't my own clumsiness. I got myself punched."

I wince. "Ouch. Was he big?"

"As a matter of fact," he says, "_she_ was tiny. Shorter than me."

"A _girl_?" Don't get me wrong, I know very well how strong girls can be, but he got punched in the face by a _teenage girl_? "Geez, Hunter, what did you do to make her so mad?"

"Nothing recently. She's an old friend, to use the word loosely." The doctor is prodding gently at his nose, turning it this way and that under his fingers. I wonder if he can feel it throbbing and have to resist the urge to puke."I haven't seen her in about five years, so apparently she deemed it necessary to break my face when I showed up." He gasps and yelps in pain as the doctor takes his nose in both hands and shifts it back into place with a loud crack. "Oh, God, that hurts. Look, I'll explain it to you later, okay?"

"Sure." I am still curious, but there is a look in my little brother's eyes that I haven't seen since he stepped off the plane five years ago. I wonder what ghosts of his past are haunting him. "So, is it broken, Doc?"

"Oh, yes. Very badly. But it's nothing that won't heal. Just keep these butterfly bandages on it for the next few weeks and avoid anything coming in contact with your face. Icing it once a day wouldn't hurt, either." He rests a hand on Hunter's shoulder and looks at him, suddenly serious. "And as for this girl….did you deserve it?"

Hunter looks away, his mouth working. "Yeah," he says quietly. "I think I did."

"Well, then," the doctor says, "I'd be thinking real hard about how to make up for it, because any girl you'd take a punch from is obviously one you care about."

The car ride home is silent. I turn and look at him a few times, wanting to ask him what happened, but every time I close my mouth and keep driving. I take a few stabs at small talk, asking him when he plans on going to get his car (which he shouldn't have driven to the hospital by himself in the first place), what he wants to do about dinner, that sort of thing, but I give up quickly when I realize that all I'm going to get are one-word answers. I take to looking at him sideways instead. There is a noticeable absence of the usual twinkle in his eyes and it hurts.

He gets out without a word the minute we pull into the parking lot. "Hey, wait a minute," I call after him. "You told me you were going to explain what happened."

He doesn't turn around. "I said later. I didn't specify how much later."

"Hunter…" But he is gone, and I sigh and slam the car door shut. He has had times before where he's gotten like this, like the anniversaries of his parents' deaths, but he had obvious reasons then—now, I can't figure it out. I push the front door open and call out for Nathan.

He comes around the corner with a dish and sponge in his hands, his face inquisitive. "Yeah?"

"You're cleaning?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. Nathan is one of the messiest people I know. Izzi likes to always say that he doesn't just fit the stereotype for teenage boy, he created it, but she's a slob, too, so we always call her out on it. As much as she and Nathan are different, they have that one thing in common. Twin genetics, I guess.

"There was a mountain of dishes in the sink that Izzi and I were left to tackle alone, so he's helping. You and Hunter should be, too," Haley cuts in, pressing a glass into my hands. "Speaking of, where is he? Didn't he come home with you?"

"Yeah; he's upstairs. He's actually what I wanted to talk to you about, Nathan." I lower my voice. "I had to pick him up from the hospital. He went to see an old friend earlier and she broke his nose."

"Oh, my God! Is he okay?"

"Physically, he'll be fine, but he's acting really strange and I think it's because of her. You know how weird he is about talking about his past—I'm wondering what he did to her that he doesn't want to tell us about."

"Geez, you think there're more bad things in his past? The stuff we know already is terrible enough," Nathan says.

"Yes, I do. The story we know has some holes in it." I sigh. "I just hate to see him in pain. He's such a good guy."

"Well, Nate said something about one of the basketball guys having an end-of-the-summer party tonight. Maybe you should take him to that," Izzi suggested, stepping out of the kitchen. Even though I have known her my whole life, I am still struck at odd times by how much she looks like Nathan, and now is one of those times. With her brown hair and chocolate eyes, she could be him in girl form (except way prettier, she always jokes). "You know, get a little alcohol in him. Induce some short-term memory loss."

"None of you should be drinking at all," Haley says sharply, glaring at the three of us, especially Nathan. "But I do think that's a good idea. Let him have some fun and take his mind off things."

Nathan hesitates. "I don't know, you guys. Hunter's only been to one party since he got here, and he didn't have a very good time. Brooke tried to have sex with him the minute he walked in the door."

"And," I add, "tomorrow is Sunday. He usually doesn't like to stay up late on Saturdays so he can go to church."

"Well, the least you can do is ask him," Haley says. "Now, give him some time to himself and get in here. There are dishes to be done." She swats Nathan on the butt with a wet dish towel and shrieks as he picks her up and tickles her in retaliation.

I oblige, but my mind is a million miles away. My gaze keeps being drawn to the top of the stairs, where I can't help wondering if Hunter is sitting alone, crying for horrors of his past he has kept to himself for all these years.

**H****ope you liked this chapter PLEASE Review! Let me know if you have any questions.**

**-Kenya**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Thank You for all of your reviews each one means so much! I would of updated sooner but I have been moving all week. Hope you like it!**

**Izzi**

"Hey, Brooke, have you seen Hunter?"

"Hunter?" The infamous big-eyed beauty of Tree Hill High looks at me like I'm crazy and I realize that a straight answer from her is hopeless—she's already hammered. Her breath smells like cheap beer. "No, I haven't seen him. But guess what? I've only been here for an hour and I've made out with like, two or three guys. Actually it may have just been one guy—I'm not totally sure. But whatever. This party is awesome!"

"Mhm, that's great, Brooke," I answer absently, looking around desperately for Hunter. _Dammit._ I promised Nate and Lucas I would keep an eye on him and I've managed to lose him in the first ten minutes of being here. Where has that short bastard gone? "Well, I'll see you later," I say, but Brooke is already gone, chasing a better opportunity on the other side of the room. I roll my eyes and keep looking.

I pass an infinite number of couples making out—including Lucas and Peyton, who I make a point to get the hell away from—and feel a sharp pang of longing to have Skills here with me. I've seen him maybe three times this summer—his family goes on a lot of vacations, and as he left for one right after we got together, we haven't spent a lot of time as a couple. It figures that the first boyfriend I've had since the tenth grade would spend the whole summer out of town.

I am just beginning to head upstairs when a hand covers my eyes. "Hey, baby—hey, hey, stop hitting me! It's me, Skills."

I uncurl my hand from its fist and spin around. My ears aren't deceiving me—he really is here. "Skills! What are you doing here?" He kisses me and I realize how much I have missed the taste of him. "Sorry about the hitting. Automatic response."

"It's alright. I was going to tell you I was coming home today, but I found out about the party and wanted to surprise you. You're not mad, are you?"

"Of course not," I chuckle, winding our fingers together. "So, how have you been? I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too. You look beautiful tonight." His voice has gone all husky and low and I can feel the few sips of alcohol I've had burning in my veins. He puts a hand on my arm. "You want to get out of here? We can…uh….catch up somewhere where we can actually hear each other."

I giggle. "I'd love too, but…."

"But?"

I bite my lip. I did make a promise….but Hunter's a big boy. I'm sure he'll be fine on his own. It may be selfish, but I deserve this much."Nothing. Let's go, handsome." I walk backwards up the stairs, keeping him in sight the whole time. By the time we close the door behind us, I have forgotten all about my search.

I slip out of the bedroom a few hours later with a hurried apology to Skills and resume looking for Hunter, ashamed of myself. The party is subdued now; since they are finished dancing and playing drinking games to impress each other, couples are dancing, flirting, hooking up with each other while romantic music plays on some hidden radio. I keep my head down, using my peripheral vision to scan the room—I don't want anyone to notice me and try to start a conversation. I don't have time for anything but what I should have done hours ago.

In the end, he gives himself away. He's too used to snapping his head up when he hears his name—he can't stop himself, even when he's trying to hide. I close the back door behind me and sit down next to him. "Hey, little brother."

"Hey." He doesn't look at me, just lifts a telltale Solo cup to his mouth and takes a long drink. It is recognizable by smell as Peyton's famous mixture of whiskey, beer, and lemonade. I ease it out of his hands and throw it behind me. Two of those things are enough to make anyone hammered.

"Easy there. How many of these have you had?"

"Not nearly enough." He puts his head in his hands. "I screwed up, Izzi. I screwed up so badly."

I am horrified to see that he is shaking. I put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze. "What are you talking about? What's wrong?"

"She'll never forgive me. It's over. It's over," he sobs. "I feel like I'm falling apart. You have to help me."

"Look, it's gonna be okay. You're just drunk and emotional. Let me just say goodbye to Skills and I'll take you home…."

"No!" He pulls me back down by the wrist. "I'm the reason my parents died. I distracted my mom and caused the car accident that caused my father's suicide. I had a friend back home—Lailin—and I wanted to call her so bad, but I couldn't because I was too guilty. She was too good and I was too bad. And now she's told me how mad she is at me and I'll never get her back. The last person I had left, the only girl I've ever loved, she's gone. I've screwed everything up. Everything." He takes a big gulp of air and hugs himself around the middle like he's trying to hold himself together. "I've been sitting here for hours trying to decide if I'm going to throw myself in that lake over there, but I'd probably mess that up, too. I can't do anything right."

What the hell do you say to something like that? I sit speechless, letting him grip my hand for dear life and grasping for words like straws.

**As usual if I get three reviews by the end of the day I will update late tonight or tomorrow!**

**-Kenya**


	6. Chapter 6

**Really short chapter guys, sorry. How do you like it?! We have gotten a lot of traffic on this story, which is good, but nobody reviewed the last chapter and that makes us sad. So please review! **

**Hunter**

The world has become a whirlwind and I can't keep my eyes focused on anything. There is leather beneath my head as the ground starts to shift and move under me; I don't know if I am in a car or if the world is simply ending. I lean my head to the side and vomit, trying to rid myself of all the bad decisions I've ever made, but they're still there when I'm done and I cry silently. If tears could wash sin away, I'd be a saint.

I stop spinning abruptly. Hands on my back support me at first, but it's obvious that I can't make my own feet move and a pair of arms lift me instead. The walk is slow going and bumpy, and I am sick three more times before I roll out of the cage of arms and onto my own bed. I am thankful for the darkness—the light is blinding, pure, and it reminds me of Lailin and my mother and everyone who deserves to hate me just as much as I hate myself. The bed bends around my shape, making it impossible to get out. I don't think I can move if I tried.

"Hunter." Lucas' voice is far away, like it's coming from the end of a tunnel. "Hunter, I know it's bad right now, but we're going to help you through this. I promise."

I want to tell him that he can't help me, that I have done this to myself, but I am too drunk and exhausted and that many words won't come anymore. I just nod, my head spinning. "Okay."

And that's it. I think he stays with me all night, but there's no way to be sure. It is hours of thinking about all the things I have royally screwed up before sleep comes like a wave and pulls me under, the tide cradling me with hands that are too soft and yet unbearably tight.

**Reminder: You don't need an account to be awesome and review.**

**How many of you prefer Lucas and Peyton over Jake and Peyton?**

**-Kenya and Mary Alice**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for the reviews, I know it's another Lailin chapter but don't worry some original characters are coming in the next chapter.**

**Lailin **

I've told myself the whole drive up here that there's nothing intimidating about a tiny apartment, but my hands are shaking inside my jeans pockets. I walk up the front steps, accenting each one with a reason why I shouldn't do this. _He hurt me. He lied to me. He only came around when it got to be too much for_ him. When it comes time to knock on the door, I couple each one with a reason why I should. _He said he still loved me. He's been my best friend since we were four. He's filled with so much guilt—the last thing he needs is me dissing him, too. He didn't call me because he thought I deserved better than him._ I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves. This decision is not an easy one, but I have to keep telling myself that I'm doing the right thing before it drives me crazy. _You're a good person. You're making a good decision_. I am still so deep in thought when a dark-haired boy opens the door that it takes me by surprise. "Yes?"

I can't seem to get my voice to work right. "Oh, God," I finally choke out. "You scared me."

His eyebrows draw together. "_You_ rang the doorbell. Were you not expecting anyone to answer?"

"No, I was, I just—never mind. It's not important. I was wondering if—is Hunter here?"

"Depends. Who's asking?"

"Lailin Durham. I'm Whitey's granddaughter—you know him, don't you?"

The boy's whole body stiffens and I can tell Hunter has told him about me. What could he have said to make this guy so cautious? It's not like I did anything to him (well, except break his nose, but that's beside the point). "Hunter's not here. Sorry."

He starts to close the door, but I stick my foot out and stop it. "Look, this is important. I don't know what he's told you about me, but I really need to talk to him. I promise it's not going to hurt him in any way, physically or mentally. Please tell me the truth—is he here?"

The guy sighs. "Yes. But he's not feeling so well and I don't know if—"

"He will," I interrupt. "I promise. Just let me talk to him."

He doesn't say anything, just steps aside and lets me in. "He's upstairs," he calls over his shoulder, closing the door. "Second door on the left."

I nod and run up the stairs. I hear other voices asking the guy who I am, but they are the last thing on my mind. I knock softly on Hunter's door. "Hunter?"

He obviously doesn't recognize my voice, because he utters a soft "Come in". He sounds terrible. The boy said he wasn't feeling well—has he caught some deadly disease or something? I push the door open and step inside. It is dark, so dark that it takes me a minute to get accustomed to the light, and Hunter is lying on a bed in the middle of the room with a cloth over his eyes and a bucket next to the bed. When I ease myself down onto the bed, I can see that he is deathly pale. "Hey. It's me."

"Who—?" He stops mid-sentence, the rag off his eyes. His face hardens. "Oh. Hi, Lailin."

"Yeah, hi. What have you done to yourself? No offense, but you look like sh—you look terrible."

"I went out drinking last night to try and get over what happened with you." There is no shame in his voice, only bitterness. "My alcohol level was pretty high, so I've got the hangover from hell as a consequence. I'll never do that again, that's for sure."

"Well," I say, "we've all been there. Listen, I came to talk to you about something."

"So talk."

I swallow. I don't think I've ever heard his voice this cold before. "I've decided to transfer to Tree Hill High for the upcoming school year." He stiffens in shock beside me but doesn't say a word, obviously expecting more. "And before you ask, yes, I am doing it for you. You don't deserve to hate yourself. But I have conditions."

He coughs and moans. "Such as?"

"First, I still care about you a great deal, and I'm willing to be your friend again, but you have to understand that I can't forgive you for what you did, even taking your reasons into account. So I'm not interested in being your girlfriend. At least, not yet. Second, you have to tell me when something is bothering you, no matter how small. We can't afford for anything like this to happen again."

Hunter pulls himself into a sitting position and looks at me. His face has no color, his eyes are red, but he is still stunning. Beauty knows no limits, I suppose. "Thank you," he whispers. Then his mouth turns up at the corners just like it used to and my heart starts doing flips. "Are there any more conditions?"

I smile back. "You'll have to get back to me on that." I know I should leave—if I don't, I'll spend the whole day flirting and contradicting my own rules. But I can't seem to make my feet move. Instead, my hands ease him back down onto his pillow and tuck his comforter back around him. "Now, you need to sleep. Best thing for a hangover, you know." He closes his eyes, not even starting when my devil lips brush against his forehead—he is already asleep. I sink back against the wall and close my own eyes. _You, _I think to myself_, are a terrible person, Lailin Durham. Absolutely terrible._

_He is pretty when he sleeps, though. _

**Don't forget to review, hope you liked it. At the end of the last chapter I asked if you guys preferred Leyton or Jeyton. Everyone that reviewed said Jeyton, and that's good because I had already started writing a Jeyton chapter. If you have any questions, requests, or frustrations don't be afraid to review or PM us, your reviews inspire Mary and I to write so keep them coming!**

**-Kenya and Mary Alice**


End file.
